Darker Than Galvorn
by Araloth the Random
Summary: Aredhel certainly causes a stir in Gondolin when she comes home with a son - and pursued by an angry husband. Thus the first shadow falls upon Gondolin...Slightly AU.
1. Chapter 1

I have always wondered about Eol's thoughts, especially after he (unintentionally) killed his wife and was thrown into prison. After reading 'Of Maeglin' I realised I actually felt sorry for him, even though at first I thought he was a selfish a-hole.

As always, please review!

**-o-**

He was furious but brooded in silence in the darkness, where only a single shaft of starlight slanted through the narrow slit in high in the wall. Even if he'd had someone there to speak to he doubted that he would have talked. It was not his way to say much, even in anger. Most of the time. He did remember, with startling clarity, those moments in which his temper had gotten the better of him and he'd vented his anger in harsh words, almost immediately regretting them as each one tumbled from his mouth. But he had never struck her, no matter how infuriated he'd been.

Now he would gladly have nailed either her or her son to a tree himself.

Once his fury had finally subsided the memories came flooding again, more to trouble him than to calm him.

His thoughts strayed back to his home deep in dark Nan Elmoth – but the dark for him there had been somewhat cheering, not like the cold darkness here that clung uncomfortably to him like wet leather. His mind ambled up the path to the door of his small house, whose windows revealed a soft light glowing inside. The fire would burning already when he arrived, but nearly always a slim white figure would be standing over it, the shadows playing about her pallid face. Sunlight he despised; but the soft light that seemed to radiate from Aredhel Ar-Feiniel he rejoiced in. He could be in the worst mood but a smile from her was enough to lay a calm on his troubled spirit.

Still, her smiles were a rarity, especially of late; sometimes he felt as though nothing he could say or do would bring back the sparkle in her eyes or even the slightest curl to her lips. He remembered bringing her costly gifts on his return from long stays in the Dwarven cities or making her things himself, exulting in seeing her adorned so in the most exquisite silver jewellery. She loved silver. Silver and white.

From the moment he first saw her desire overtook all sense of reason. He thought that all he needed in life was metal to work. But no metal, however beautiful, had this entrancing effect on his spirit. Nor did it cause that sudden fire to awaken and rage within him.

He tried to shake off this feeling almost as soon as it arose. Iron and steel, they were more familiar to him, more predictable than any woman could be. He looked down on those Elves of Thingol's court that chased after ellith, considering himself above lowering himself to any woman, with all those sickening outpourings of what they called love.

But what of this lovely vision that walked in his sight? The starlight that slanted through the trees fell onto her white, upturned face. Her dark hair hung partly loose, curling down to her waist, dark as _galvorn_. He drew in his breath sharply at such beauty, such as he had never seen before. He pursued her in the shadows, watching her as she wandered amongst the trees. Ah, she could wander anywhere and still only be brought closer to his home. Closer to him. Something drove him on, kept the fire smouldering in him. What it was, he knew not.

Of course, the one woman who cast such a blinding enchantment on him _would_ be one of those murderous Kinslayers. But as his affection for her increased even this after a while ceased to bother him.

_Why do you despise the sun?_ She had asked him when he was in his forge. She had already stayed in his house for a few weeks. He had responded with a half smile.

_I dislike it. It's too bright._

_Too bright? It brings light and warmth._

_Not for me. If it's any light I like it is the light of the stars._

_May I ask why?_ He paused for a moment before answering.

_I don't know. Somehow it's more pure, more beautiful._ She smiled.

_You are very eccentric, my lord._

_Perhaps I am. But perhaps you will one day see what I mean._ At that point he put down the black sword he was in the process of forging. All that could wait for some other time.

_Do you want to see it?_ He asked. Her eyes lit up. He loved seeing her eyes glow with that light.

_I would, if you would show me._

He led her to a place he knew well, one of the few places where the sky was still visible and the stars shone brilliantly. He was delighted when he saw her look up at the stars in wonder, taking in the softly lit scene, as still as a pillar of alabaster.

Aredhel Ar-Feiniel was his wife.

There was a time when she was less indifferent toward him, when that enchanting smile graced her countenance more often and she would nearly enjoy his company. He tried to make her see the beauty of the twilight and shadows of Nan Elmoth, to shun the detestable sunlight and rejoice in the stars. One day, he thought, she would learn to love him. That was what he hoped for more than anything else. She was the most fair of anything he'd laid eyes upon and he prized her above everything, even above the works of his hands. The more superficial feelings he'd had at the beginning had long since passed to something more substantial.

He loved her with everything he possessed, with the whole of his dark heart. But he was not one for words. If ever he tried to tell her of his devotion, the words stuck in his throat, refusing to form into anything remotely coherent. And not wanting to sound like a gibbering idiot he remained silent. He remembered the sadness that settled like grey clouds on her fair features in those moments, as if she were disappointed in him. Why hadn't he been able to tell her how much he appreciated her, how much she illuminated his very existence? She was to him what the light of the sun was to others. And she was gone.

Perhaps he'd realised too late that the most beautiful and costly of silver was not enough to keep those whom he loved at his side. Had he been deceiving himself all these years, to believe that his son's composure and silence was just thoughtfulness? Maeglin's quietness was but a mask for sorrow. Deep in his heart the lord of Nan Elmoth knew he had failed them both. He had caused an ever-widening rift between himself and his own family. But Eol refused to believe it.

Surely she had been able to see his deep love for her without having to use words, how he tried in every way to please her. He was _tired_ of trying. His face suddenly twisted into a snarl of rage. He had given her everything and this was how the deceitful creature repaid him. A thousand curses on her and ten thousand on her treacherous son! No longer would he allow her spell to work on him. She bewitched all who were so unfortunate as to come into contact with her. May the bird return to her cage where she would sicken again. But his son would not be taken from him. Those same thoughts raced through his mind as he hurled the spear at Maeglin, fury burning in his eyes, watching in horrified fascination as his wife leapt before it and took the wound to her shoulder. He glanced behind as several Noldor sprang forward into action, seizing him and whisking him away to this foul dungeon. Eol saw her fall, there before her brother and son. They could do all they wanted and nothing would ever heal her. A spiteful smile crossed his face, causing those Proud Ones from over the sea to shout at him and shove him all the way into the dark.

Angry and hurt, he had ridden far, pursuing them even in the daylight and perceiving where they were fleeing. They would seek the city built by those accursed ones! This knowledge and the sneering remarks of that man who called himself 'lord Curufin' strengthened him in his pursuit, hardened his heart. He called himself a lord yet he had no lordship over these lands. Thinking about it now, it was a wonder that Eol had managed to restrain his fury. He looked up and saw Aredhel's white raiment glisten as she and Maeglin hastened onward. Then he rode on.

Somewhere above him in one of Turgon's rooms he knew Ar-Feiniel lay dying, surrounded by all those who loved her dearly. Except for him. He smiled to himself ironically. He would die – this he knew. Probably thrown off some cliff, something only that Noldorin scum could devise in their beastly minds. But they would lose her too. Aredhel would be departed from the hither lands soon.

His life had been simple before that confounded woman had come into his domain. The murderers from over the sea cursed everything they touched, as Aredhel had cursed his life.

A sudden clang startled him out of his reverie as the door swung open. Looking up he saw a figure standing hesitantly in the doorway, holding aloft a lantern. She looked younger than Aredhel, though she was quite tall. Ah. So this was the King's daughter, whom he had only seen briefly when he was dragged before Turgon. No doubt another beautiful, scheming enchantress. He could only stare. To be sure, she carried herself with great dignity and grace, her head held up, as his wife had. But she looked nothing like Aredhel, with wide cerulean eyes and silky curls of gold. There was an energy and vivacity in her, not the coldness and indifference of Aredhel.

For a while they remained silent. Eol had never felt so unnerved in his life. Those seemingly innocuous blue eyes seemed to pierce right through him, though she said never a word. Finally his discomfiture grew too much to bear.

"Well?" he said gruffly. "What do you want with me, princess?"

Her voice was warm, musical, and it echoed around his dark prison. "I want to talk to you."

OoO

_Blessed Aman_, she thought as the light from her lantern spilled upon the bent figure that had claimed Aredhel as his wife. This was the first time Idril had studied her uncle. He really was in a pitiful state. His dark and unkempt hair hung in strands about his face, his armour had probably seen better days and his heavy boots were mud-splattered. Hardness and bitterness were engraved in his face. Although her aunt was dying, by her own husband's hand, Idril nearly felt a pang of sympathy for him. But it passed quickly when he spoke, his voice harsh and rasping. She wondered if it were possible that he was serving the Lord of Darkness without even knowing it.

"What do you want to talk to me for?"

Idril drew herself up even taller and held up her lantern, whose light fell upon Eol's harsh features. He flinched a little.

"For the sake of the Valar, girl, put that down!" Startled, she lowered it, and saw him visibly relax.

Even with the light covered he thought he could see a soft light emanating from the young princess. Good Lords, did all these Kinslayers glow like that? The look on her face was so pitying. He turned away. He did not need pity, least of all from a daughter of murderers. He felt very uncomfortable under her watchful gaze.

"Well?" he said again. "Speak. But you need not insult me. Your father has already demonstrated his ability to insult by throwing me in this accursed place."

Idril could not see any sign of remorse for what he did.

"You killed Aredhel." There was a sharp edge beneath her silvery voice.

"I am quite aware of that, your Highness," he answered, almost surprising himself by his horrible calmness.

"Please allow me to finish, Master Eol." If he was going to flaunt her title sarcastically, she would do likewise. "You have killed Aredhel, in the process of attempting to kill your own son. She was beloved in this city and you have robbed us of her. However, despite your lack of penitence, Aredhel herself asked me to tell you that she and I are – " She paused to clear her throat. "We are imploring the King to spare you."

"But why do you want to spare me for? Why do you care?"

She sighed exasperatedly.

"Look," she said firmly. "You are a deranged fool and if you die tomorrow it makes no difference to me. I am doing this for Aredhel. It was her wish that you be spared."

With that she turned to leave, but not without glancing behind her. Eol read in her face a look of sympathy mingled with something that looked like contempt. The door clanged shut loudly, echoing heavily in his cell and leaving only that beam of starlight shining down on his bent form through the narrow window.

_Her wish?_ Well, how gracious of her! Not that he cared much for life now. His had been ruined a long time before.

They were not meant to be together and he had known that from the moment he had seen her gliding through his forest with the starlight on her face. But he had not heeded it. Morgoth himself could not have done a better job of sowing misfortune and death in their paths.

Indeed, there had been some dark force behind Eol's desire from the beginning. Somehow he sensed that he had brought darkness to the city, though he knew not how. Maybe that was a good thing, to bring misfortune on those abominable Kinslayers. All he knew was that one day mighty Gondolin would fall, perhaps through him.

_Alone in his prison he feels it when she breathes her last. Alone in the darkness he knows that her spirit has fled from Middle Earth. And alone in the shadows, where no one can see him, a tear slides down his face._


	2. Chapter 2

I haven't followed exactly what Tolkien describes in The Silmarillion, so please forgive me for taking some liberties! Any quotes I have used are in asterisks.

Feedback, as always, is welcomed. :)

OoO

_A few hours beforehand_

Idril stood by Turgon's throne in confusion. Only moments ago she had been summoned to see her father and now quite a crowd had gathered, all murmuring amongst themselves. Obviously the matter must have been of some import, but what it was, Idril did not have slightest idea.

"Atar? What is going on?" she whispered to Turgon.

Her father sighed and turned to her. "You will see."

The princess rolled her eyes in annoyance. _Why does nobody ever tell me what is going on here, including my own father?_ she thought, feeling very frustrated.

The great wooden doors opened and a woman accompanied by a very young man strode in with quick steps, flanked by the guards who were nearly jogging to keep up with them. Idril's eyes widened and she gasped.

"Aunt Aredhel?"

The woman looked up. "My dear Idril!" she exclaimed, running up onto the dais in her usual wild manner and embracing her niece. The King, looking both overjoyed and rather irritated at the same time, stood up and greeted his sister in like manner. So grateful was he that Iluvatar had returned his stubborn sister to Gondolin that for once he did not care much about maintaining the face of the stern, formal King of Gondolin. Tears were in his eyes as he pulled back and looked upon Aredhel, who aside from looking a little worn from travel, was still the same pertinacious elleth with unrestrained spirit he knew.

"Thanks be to Iluvatar," he murmured, once again embracing Aredhel. "I never thought I would ever see you again."

"And I never thought I would ever return here," she replied, quickly wiping her sleeve across her eyes.

Idril shifted slightly so that she could get a better look at the other one who had come in with her aunt. His black hair was kept in a long braid down his back and his eyes, nearly as dark as his hair, were framed with thick lashes. He looked very young. At present he was looking all around him at the splendour of the room, at the high arched ceiling, the carved pillars and marble floors. Then his gaze rested upon her and their eyes met for a moment before they both looked away.

Aredhel saw Idril and the young man staring at each other and she said, blushing slightly, "Turgon, Idril—this is my son Maeglin, whom I have also named Lómion."

Turgon looked for the first time upon his nephew and smiling extended his hand. Maeglin looked up at him hesitantly but seeing the kindness shining in his uncle's eyes, he smiled back and took his hand shyly, stepping up onto the dais to join his family. Idril was startled at the change that came over his sorrowful countenance when he smiled. The shadows fled from his face and he looked quite handsome.

The King pulled Maeglin into an embrace. "Child of the Twilight you shall be no more," he said kindly, "for henceforth I will think of you as my own son."

Maeglin's voice was quiet, almost shy. "Thank you," he said, informally.

"And this, Maeglin, is my daughter, Idril."

He turned his head and looked in her direction. In his eyes was a spark of curiosity.

"Cousin," he murmured, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. For some inexplicable reason, Idril shivered. It was not an unpleasant sensation.

"My Lord!"

A messenger came running into the hall, heeding not that this was a solemn occasion. Breathing heavily, he nearly skidded to a halt before the King.

"My Lord," he repeated, "there is trouble."

The King quickly rose from his seat. With a frown, he demanded, "What trouble?"

Suddenly the doors flew open and crashed against the wall with surprising strength and an Elf walked in, followed by running guards. Aredhel gasped, Maeglin frowned and Idril could do nothing but stare. After all, she had never seen this Elf before and with his mud-splattered clothes and the fell light shining in his eyes he looked wild.

Without any formalities – or any shame, for that matter – he strode up to the dais and stood before Turgon defiantly.

The messenger who had burst in moments before was still gasping for breath and with admirable effort he stood up to his full height and announced, "Eol he names himself, and he claims the Lady Aredhel as his wife."

Turgon was speechless. After a moment he managed to choke out, "Excuse me?"

Aredhel, with resignation in her voice, replied, "*He speaks but the truth. He is Eol, and I am his wife, and he is the father of my son.*"

Glancing at the strange Sindarin Elf, Idril noticed the sullen look on his face and the wonder at all that he saw swiftly turning to hatred. With him seemed to be a darkness that cast a shadow upon the hall, at least for a moment. She liked him not at all. He looked insane.

Standing up, Turgon offered a hand to him and said that he was welcome as a kinsman to dwell in Gondolin. Eol's eyes flashed.

"*I acknowledge not your law,*" he spat. "Nay, I come only to claim my wife and son. But if she will, and if you have some claim on her, let Aredhel remain—the bird may go back to her cage, where she will sicken again. But you shall not deny me my son." He now fixed his dark eyes on Maeglin.

"*Come, Maeglin son of Eol!" commanded his father. "*Leave the house of his enemies and the slayers of his kin, or be accursed!*"

All eyes turned in the younger Elf's direction. Maeglin, whose eyes held no expression, stared back at Eol. Aredhel looked worried.

Before anyone could even move, Eol suddenly pulled a spear out of nowhere. With swift accuracy he hurled it straight towards Maeglin. But Aredhel leapt before her son, the spear piercing her shoulder.

Immediately tall guards, eyes sparkling in anger, came running in from all directions and seized the Sindarin Elf, amid the noise of the crowd gathered there. They dragged him out of the hall whilst Turgon bent down and picked his sister up in his arms himself.

OoO

In the flickering light of the candles, Aredhel's pallid face looked almost golden, with curls of dark hair clinging wetly to her forehead.

Sitting quietly by her bedside was her son, whose dark eyebrows were joined in worry. His father, it was true, had an unpredictable temper but had had never done anything worse to Aredhel than shout at her when he was in a rage—and Eol had always told his family how much he loved them. Never had he once suspected that fury could take Eol so far as to try and kill his own son. Maeglin was still quite shaken by it—but more so by the fact that his mother had taken the wound to her shoulder in his place. His mother would be the one to die.

And when he thought of the look of revengeful satisfaction that had come over Eol's countenance before they led him away. . .Maeglin clenched his hand into a fist and let out a ragged breath through his teeth.

"Maeglin."

The voice of his mother, usually so strong and melodious, was now reduced to barely a whisper. He immediately turned his attention back to her.

"Yes, mother?"

"Has. . .has Idril come back yet?"

"No, but she will soon. She must speak to Eol, as well as Turgon."

The corners of Aredhel's mouth turned upwards into a slight smile and she closed her eyes once again.

Maeglin found himself somewhat eagerly anticipating the moment when Idril would walk into the room. He could find no reason for it but that he loved to look upon all that was fair, and she was more fair than anything he had ever seen before. His mother was certainly beautiful, and her beauty was as the light of the stars illuminating the clearing in Nan Elmoth where she and Eol would stand together during long nights with hands clasped—but Idril's beauty was as the light of Anor through the high windows of Turgon's white palace.

It had greatly surprised him, and maybe even disappointed him, to discover that they were cousins.

At the sudden sound of swift but light footsteps, Maeglin's eyes turned towards the doorway, where the very object of his wandering thoughts appeared. She placed her lantern upon the table next to the bed and sat down.

Idril did not say a word as she took her place opposite the soft-spoken young man that was her kinsman. She had not even known that she had a cousin until Aredhel's unexpected return. It was a pleasant thought to know that there was one more near to her age than many others whom she could befriend and talk to—even if Maeglin did not look particularly talkative—but Aredhel's state was something that for now diminished the joy quite considerably. She knew that it would not be long now before her beloved aunt would depart for the Halls of Mandos.

It wasn't fair - they had only just been reunited.

There was a quiet rustling sound, and it was Aredhel's hand moving weakly on the sheets. Maeglin gently took her hand and held it reassuringly, giving a small smile at his mother.

He was actually quite attractive, Idril thought, but too quiet and joyless. Well, that was understandable. Maeglin had been dwelling in some dark forest all his life without seeing much of the sun, his mother was dying and his father had tried to kill him only hours ago. He could not be much past his majority, if he had indeed come of age yet at all. No one, especially not one so young and sensitive as Maeglin, should have had to go through what he just had.

"What said your father?" Maeglin's quiet voice seemed almost loud in this room where death had begun to descend. He did not look up.

"He said that, for Aredhel's sake, Eol would be spared his judgement." _Though whether he deserves it or not is something else_, she thought to herself, not realising that a bitter look had crossed her face.

"You do not think that my father should be spared?" asked Maeglin. Idril's head snapped up and she looked in surprise at her cousin. _Sharp Glance, indeed. The thoughts of others he can read like an open book._ For some reason, she felt as if she should guard her thoughts carefully whenever she spoke to him.

"N-no, that is not what I said—" began Idril.

Maeglin nodded. "It is alright." His tone was emotionless, and Idril wondered if he had any respect or love for his father. He looked up as if she had spoken. "Little love do I have for him, especially now when he has killed my mother. He held us in a cage, whether he knew it or not."

"Is this why you left the shadows of the woods?"

"Yes." His eyes shone as he spoke. "I longed to see what was beyond the borders of Nan Elmoth, to see the sun every day—not just in those moments I could steal when my father was abroad."

The idea of never, or hardly ever seeing the sun was a strange thought to Idril, whose memory was always filled with light—except for that dark journey across the ice. . .Involuntarily she shivered.

"Idril? Is that you?" Aredhel's voice was weak. "I cannot see well."

"Yes, it is I," she answered.

"Eol. Is. . .has your father. . ."

"Eol will be spared, just as you wished."

Aredhel turned her head towards Idril, tears running down her face. "I just wish I could have lived long enough to tell him. . ."

The princess felt her own eyes begin to water, knowing that she would not be there much longer. "Tell him what?" she asked softly, her voice thick with unshed tears.

"I love Eol. I never told him. . ."she whispered. "It is my one regret. . ."

"Hush," murmured Idril, placing a hand on top of Aredhel's gently. "Do not speak. You need your rest if you are to recover."

Maeglin's lips were set in a tight line as he looked upon his mother's beautiful face, which was contorted with agony. Aredhel's look when she opened her eyes spoke plainly. _But I will not recover, will I?_

Idril quickly wiped at her eyes, not wanting to shed tears in front of her aunt. Aredhel had always wanted her to be strong, and it was only right that she respect her wishes whilst she was dying. The weak hold that she had on Idril's hand suddenly strengthened for a moment.

"I want the both of you to look after each other," she murmured, looking from Maeglin to Idril. "For my sake."

"Of course," said Maeglin. "We are kin, after all, and I hope that we will become friends."

Idril gave a small smile in her cousin's direction. "I am sure we will."

"Then my heart is at ease." Aredhel's face twisted again as another spasm of pain wracked her being. Her breathing became slow and shallow. When she gave a long sigh, Idril knew that she had passed away.

Maeglin was still holding his mother's hand, staring ahead with eyes smouldering. Idril stood up and went to his side.

"She took the wound for me," he said quietly. "I should have been the one to die, not her."

"It was not your fault. Do not blame yourself."

"I am cursed," he whispered, turning to Idril. She saw tears in his wide, dark eyes threatening to brim over.

"No!" she exclaimed. "Indeed you are not. You are safe now, within the walls of Gondolin."

He shook his head, but said nothing.

Idril did not know it, but his gaze went to her every so often—within himself he wondered how, when his father had told him that all the Golodhrim were Kinslaying lowlifes, his cousin could be so beautiful, and so kind. There was a part of him that yearned for the companionship of someone closer to his age. Separated from everyone except Eol's household for all his life, he had been deprived of true friendship. In his heart he hoped very much that Idril would see past his own shyness, his half-Sindarin blood, his father. It would be wonderful to have someone to confide in. . .especially now that Aredhel was gone.

For a long time they sat together, Idril shedding silent tears, and Maeglin staring ahead, his dark eyes expressionless.

Tomorrow would come payment.

And the sheer cliff wall was an exacting avenger.


End file.
